Princess 'Bitch' Baratheon
by freshface
Summary: "Why do you insist on being tied down to Princess 'Bitch' Baratheon, even after all this shit she made you go through? And don't give me that 'it's my duty' crap. You could easily get out of this if you wanted to," Theon tried to reason. When he figured out that Robb wasn't listening to him, Theon followed his gaze and chuckled to himself, "You're a fucking goner. You like her."


**Author's Note:** This is my first ever GoT, ASoF fic. I have watched the series and started reading the books, but this is going to be a bit AU (what fic isn't).

I've been reading a bunch of Myrcella/Robb fics just recently, and I'm somewhat disappointed how bad of a relationship people portray of Myrcella and Cersei. I think this arises from everyone's dislike of Cersei's character. I would think that with little tidbits I have seen, Cersei doted on all three of her children equally, mainly because they were extensions of herself. Myrcella would obviously look up to her mother, as most daughters with good relationships with their mothers would do, but she would have more of an innocence associated with her character. So if Robb and Myrcella were betrothed, I would think Myrcella would try to manipulate the situation like her mother.

**Summary:** Princess Myrcella doesn't appreciate how she's being handed off on a silver platter to the Starks. Thus, the inner Lannister in her will do her best to get herself out of this completely unnecessary betrothal to Robb Stark, no matter how physically attractive he is.

**Chapter 1 - Mother Dearest**

The sharp clang of a golden goblet crashing against the stone table awakened Myrcella from her thoughts.

Dinners in the Red Keep often consisted of the appetizing aroma of ambrosia and the awkward ambience that accompanied the royal family. Her father would crack some joke that wasn't all too amusing while drinking a dozen pitchers of the finest Dornish wine. Her mother would respond with some snide insult targeted at the plump king. Her older brother would indulge his parents in some unimportant "feat" of that he had accomplished earlier that day, while her younger brother would sneak some of his meal to his kittens underneath the table.

Myrcella never thought there was anything worthy that she could gather from the dinner table other than a means to satisfy her hunger. An eight-year-old girl wasn't interested Joffrey's exaggerated lies about defeating some stable boy in a mock sword-fight, or the complicated politics of the Iron Throne.

"You will not take my only daughter away from me," Queen Cersei warned as she slammed her silverware against the porcelain plate.

The princess felt her heart yearn for her mother when she acknowledged that her mother was trying to protect her. It was quite unusual for her family to discuss about her during dinner. Myrcella was accustomed to being ignored, as she was but a child and a female one at that. Girls were not of importance unless they were being married to someone to retain the peace in the kingdom. Since she was not of a marrying age, Myrcella knew that she wouldn't be discussed about for a long time.

"She's _our_ daughter, Cersei," King Robert Baratheon corrected her. Myrcella didn't miss the scoff that came from her mother. Her father disregarded it, probably because he was used to his wife's attitude, or because he was too drunk to notice. Myrcella never really could differentiate between the two. Sure, her father was a fat drunk, but he would sometimes offer words of wisdom.

"And there is nothing wrong with Ned Stark and his family," her father continued. "In fact, I think I'm going to name him as my Hand."

As if to finish his statement, he stuffed his face with a forkful of food and shot her mother a triumphant grin. This was met with a look of disgust from the Queen.

"If he is going to be your Hand, then it isn't necessary to marry off Cella to settle an alliance," her mother attempted to reason with her husband. "She is much too young to be married off, especially to a family of wildlings-"

"Then Joff will marry one of his daughters, if you are so opposed to Cella being married off," her father interrupted her mother. "Our families are meant to merge-"

"Mother! You can't let me marry a Northerner-" Joffrey's high-pitched voice made me cringe.

"You cannot be moaning about the death of that Lyanna-"

Upon the mention of the taboo name, King Robert slammed his fist against the table. The happiness in his face had immediately transformed to one of fury as he narrowed his beady eyes at his wife.

It was times like these that Myrcella was scared of what her father was capable of.

"It would be best to remember that your place is beneath me, and that I sit on the Iron Throne, you _bitch_," King Robert threatened as his voice reached a dangerous low. His tone bit at the thick tension in the air.

Her father never resorted to name-calling at the dinner table. She'd heard him verbally and physically abuse her mother in the hallways, but she'd never seen him speak that way in front of her. It was unbecoming of her father in many ways. She knew it was due to the beverage that he drowned himself in on a daily basis.

Fortunately, her mother understood the finality of her father's statement, and remained quiet after dessert was served. The meal resumed with a silence that was laced with lemon cakes and conflict.

* * *

Myrcella's chambers were furnished in a way that screamed royalty when one managed to get past Ser Arys Oakheart's protective post outside. The magnificent four-poster bed was adorned with crimson-and-gold beddings, with only slight accents of Baratheon black. Evidence of the princess's favorite pastimes were neatly placed in the numerous shelves. This consisted of books, journals, some threads and needles, and a luxury Cyvasse set from Dorne. A large armoire was placed to the left of the bed, which most likely contained elaborate gowns of the Southern fashion appropriate for a young princess. Besides the wardrobe was a full-length mirror encased in a golden frame that was embedded with roaring lions. To the right of the bed was a vanity table. The vain princess spent a lot of time here admiring her reflection and dreaming of the days when she could become as beautiful as her mother.

As her handmaiden took the remaining hairpins from her golden tresses, Myrcella scrutinized how childish her reflection seemed to be. All the princess longed for was to be treated as an adult, and the only way she could accomplish that control was when she commanded her handmaiden.

"Cerenna, tell me what you know about the Stark children," the princess demanded as she placed her small elbows on the table.

Cerenna, the handmaiden, gasped the content of the question. As a handmaiden, one wasn't meant to gossip, especially in front of the higher-born ladies. The girl's plain brown eyes widened to the size of saucers while she froze in her place.

Myrcella, in a behavior scarily similar to her mother's, rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. "I never told you to stop fixing my hair for bed!" the eight-year-old princess scolded her servant. "Besides, it's not like I will tell anyone that you're telling me anything."

Apparently, that was all the assurance Cerenna needed before she started telling the princess all that she knew. "One of the other servant girls had-"

Then, Myrcella slammed her hands against the vanity table, very much like the way King Robert had done earlier at dinner.

"I do not care for _how_ you got the information," the princess corrected. She turned her head sharply to the right, which antagonized the way her handmaiden had been brushing her hair. Myrcella yelped in pain, and Cerenna quickly tried to undo the harm that may have been done.

"Your humble servant is truly sorry for-"

"Just get on with it before my mother arrives and hears," Myrcella demanded as she folded her arms across her chest. She sensed her immaturity in the mirror, so she quickly corrected it by standing straighter and once again, admiring her features.

Cerenna sighed and continued on. "Well, the Starks are known to be a close family. They have many children, and one bastard boy under their roof. The youngest, I believe, is three and the oldest boy four-and-ten. Also, they have a ward, a Greyjoy, who is of nine-and-ten..."

"Did I tell you to tell me anything about a Greyjoy?" Myrcella questioned. Her tone of voice dripping with pre-adolescent attitude.

"No, milady. I truly apologize-" Cerenna wasn't allowed to finish because Myrcella huffed impatiently.

"Just tell me about the oldest Stark boy, since it appears I may be married off to him," Myrcella demanded, a sense of finality in her voice. "If I have to correct you once more, I may treat you as bad as Joff treats his servants..."

Cerenna bowed and swallowed her saliva. She acknowledged the legitimate threat from her mistress, and refused to make another mistake.

"The other handmaidens that had traveled from the North say that Robb Stark is one of the most handsome princes, who is growing even more so. If milady is to be married to Robb Stark, you would be very lucky, because he is as kind as his family-"

The door to Myrcella's bedroom slammed open when Queen Cersei appeared tailed by Ser Ilyn Payne and Ser Arys.

"You should know better, as a handmaiden under our service for many years, that you should not be spreading pointless gossip, especially to a young princess," the Queen reminded her with distaste. Cerenna cringed and avoided the Queen's eyes.

"I truly apologize, Your Highness," Cerenna responded as she hung her head low in respect.

Then, she pivoted around, her extravagant red-and-gold gown twirling with her, to face her personal guard. "Make sure that this handmaiden gets the proper punishment," Cersei told Ser Ilyn. The tongueless guard just nodded and grabbed Cerenna's arm roughly and led her away.

Cersei seemed to be satisfied by the look of terror on the handmaiden's face, as a sinister smile marred her beautiful features. She stole a glance at her daughter, and saw that she looked slightly worried about the handmaiden's fate.

"Ser Arys, make sure none of my stupid husband's guards try to eavesdrop on this conversation," the Queen told Myrcella's knight, and promptly shut the door behind her.

Once the door was shut, Cersei took over the task that Cerenna had failed to finish.

"But Mother," Myrcella corrected. "I was the one who requested information from her..."

"If you're going to be moving to Winterfell, you will need a new handmaid. One who knows the area well, and is trustworthy enough," Cersei reassured her daughter. She ran her fingers through golden tresses that matched her own.

A sigh escaped Myrcella's mouth when she realized she would have to leave her home. Myrcella would miss all the luxuries she was privy to in King's Landing. Winterfell would be a totally different scene for her. If she was going to stay there, she would probably be the only Lannister in the North. She would have no one to fall back on for support, not even Joffrey. She would never say it aloud, but she would miss her older brother's horribly-told lies.

Cersei saw the frown on her daughter's face and smiled sadly at her daughter. "Cella, there are a few things I need to tell you about the unfortunate fate of women in this society."

Myrcella turned around to face her mother. "Unfortunate? But Mother, I thought we were very fortunate. We have the highest ranks-"

"You, Joffrey, and Tommen are the only things that have made my life significant, as your children will be for you," Cersei continued to enlighten her daughter. "The role of women in this society is to be married off to set the peace, and bear children. None of us have any control over our lives, which makes the lot of us very unhappy.

"This is precisely the reason why I cannot influence the King to withdraw your marriage to the Stark boy. Joff is allowed a say with his choice of spouses, but as a woman, you are not. I would try as much as possible to keep you as close to me as possible, Cella. You're much too young to be married off, but this may be the last chance I have to speak to you like this."

When Cersei spoke these words, she pulled her daughter close in a tight embrace. Myrcella promptly returned the hug as she wrapped her tiny arms around her mother's waist.

"Though society deems that women like us are mindless creatures who just obey their husbands, I won't let that happen to you. I don't want you to end up in a hapless marriage like me," Cersei promised. "Before the King and I married, he had been hopelessly in love with Lyanna Stark. He was so in love with her that he started a war for her. This is why whenever anyone mentions Lyanna in conversation, the King transforms a raging monster, like he had in supper.

"His heart had already belonged to another, and had no room for me. Even though he didn't love me, the King did listen to me earlier in our marriage. Being pretty helps you gain leverage over a man. You're lucky to be all Lannister, Cella. Your features will be refreshingly different from any Northerner. You'll eventually become as beautiful as I am," Cersei continued to explain as she admired the top of her daughter's head. "That Stark boy wouldn't stand a chance. If he thinks you're beautiful enough, he'll make you stay in Winterfell for the rest of your days."

"Mummy, I don't want to leave!" Myrcella wailed. Tears started to fall from her cheeks as she hugged her mother even tighter, if it was possible.

Suddenly, the Queen slightly backed away once she came up with an idea. Her forlorn expression turned to one of a smirk, as if she knew how to manipulate the situation on her terms. "I am positive that they won't cement the marriage until you've had your moon's blood. This is why I need your help to destroy this arrangement as quickly as possible. If you want to get out of this betrothal, you are to antagonize Robb Stark, but you must be able to do this with class so that you are still respected," Cersei advised before she bent down to kiss her daughter's forehead. "Fortunately for you, you are still a child and they will just shrug off your actions as youthful and innocent. If everything goes according to plan, you'll be back home before you know it."

Myrcella looked up into her mother's eyes, identical emerald eyes to her own, and saw that they were shining with brilliance. Even though her mother had come up with this clever idea to bring her daughter back, Myrcella knew that tears were still threatening to fall down her mother's face. This prompted Myrcella to stand up from her stool, hug her mother tightly, and cry her heart out once more.

Cersei tried to comfort her daughter by rubbing her back softly. Myrcella's posture was already spasming with the heavy tears. Her crying fit died down when her mother squatted down so that their eyes were leveled.

"But if there is anything I learned, you should _never_ love him. Love is a weakness that you reserve for your children, because if you ever love your husband, all you will do is get hurt. You'll end up like me," Cersei advised as she smoothed out her daughter's hair.

Myrcella attempted to wipe her tears with sleeve, but Cersei stopped her so she could wipe her daughter's face.

"If things don't go according to plan, this may be the last time I am to act as your mother," Cersei told her daughter sadly, tears threatening to fall down from her eyes. "Could you please make your mother happy by singing to her? Your mother will miss her beautiful angel's voice."

The princess nodded slowly, while she sniffed to clear her airways. Myrcella understood the gravity of the situation, because this would be the first and last time she'd even see her strong mother, her role model, shed a tear.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope this was sufficient enough to open the story. I wanted to emphasize the bond between Myrcella and Cersei, as mother-daughter relationships are supposed to be the strongest bonds in any family. Myrcella has adopted some Baratheon qualities, but that will show up later as the story develops.

I will also try my best to incorporate the original plot, but things have changed since Robb will no longer be betrothed to some Frey.

Thanks for reading, and I hoped you like it! Please review. I will try to update as regularly as I can.


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